Flying and Needles
by Meggin Lane
Summary: This is my take on the back story of how Sam and Dean came to have the matching Tattoos in the Episode Jus en Bello.


Flying and Needles

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em. Wished ta 'ell I worked for Kripke

It started out as just another typical morning in another somewhat seedy motel on the edge of one more nondescript town.

And just as he expected, when Dean came back into their room with their coffee and donuts, he found Sam right where he'd left him pouring over the lap top doing research for a new hunt.

"Gotcher coffee Sam" Dean said as he put the cup down on the table beside his brothers hand.

Sam didn't even look up, "Huh, oh, thanks" he just kept scrolling down through the designs that flickered on the screen, pausing at one then moving on to the next.

"What's with all the demon locks Sam?" Dean asked "you can draw one in your sleep by now" Dean sat down at the table opposite his brotherand took a sip of his coffee.

Sam heard the uncrumpling of the bag and soft munching noises.

He glanced up guiltily from the screen at his brother and saw Dean, mouth filled with donut, holding one out to him with a look of innocent curiosity on his face. There was also donut topping there too. Sam thought 'got milk' as he stared at the white moustache of powdered sugar above his brother's lips. So… hard… to look… away.

A muffled "What?" came from them and Sam's eyes broke away and moved up to Dean's eyes that were wearing a look of curious worry.

"Oh, nothing… you got…" and Sam brushed his fingers across his own mouth to indicate debris removal.

Looking at him Dean copied the movement on his own face. "Gone?" Dean asked.

"Uh no…" Sam using his own face as reference pointed again.

Dean scowled and got up to go look in the mirror of their tiny bathroom as Sam sipped coffee and kept scrolling down through the images.

"Hey! Got Milk!" Dean laughed from the open bathroom door. Sam smiled a little at that and rolled his eyes.

Dean stepped back into the room still wiping his face with the hand towel. "So, Sam what's with the devils lock site I thought you were researching a hunt for us?"

Sam brooded,_ Dean and his damn instincts, he can smell trouble a mile away and this isn't going to be an easy sell, _as he steeled himself to pitch the idea to his oh so stubborn brother.

"You know Dean using the devil's lock has proved to be invaluable in keeping them out of the Impala, keeping anywhere we stay so much safer that just salt lines could; when you apply these designs on to something the demons can't get in".

Dean's eyes narrowed. Any time Sammy got that tone in his voice, that college lecture tone it usually meant something bad for him. "Yeah, so where you goin' with this?"

Sam could see Dean go into his 'wary of change stance', which was usually only two sentences from 'whatever it is "no"' mode. He rolled his eyes and continued, "It's the perfect tool against any kind of invasion by them. Even possession."

Dean's eyebrows rose and he pondered that tid bit of information. "Hhhmmm, you think so?"

"Yes." Said Sam

"Well, get a pen and we'll draw one on each other…no better yet Magic marker…"

"Dean, those all wash off or wear off in time and once the lines get broken the lock's no good even if it looks good to the naked eye. Drawing them on's too risky."

Dean stared back with a blank look on his face. "Then why'd ya bring it up?"

"Tattoos. Tattoos are permanent. It's the only way to be sure we're safe 24/7." Stated Sam in a flat no nonsense voice.

Dean blinked. And blinked again. He put his hand up to the back of his neck and began to rub it as he paced the floor.

Sam could see an inner struggle playing out across his brother's face as Dean paced. "Dude, what is your problem?" he asked.

Dean stopped pacing and turned to him and that's when Sam saw the look, it was the same look his brother had had at the airport. Dean was afraid.

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Dude, …needles?"

"I hate those friggin things… I'd rather take a bullet!" exclaimed Dean.

Sam never thought he'd be sitting in a bar at noontime trying his best to get his brother all liquored up. But there he was sitting next to Dean who had a line up of shot glasses filled with purple liqueur in front of him. Apparently Dean's favorite. He was feeling a little buzzed himself and he was only on his second beer. Good thing the Tattoo parlor was just walking distance away from the bar and their motel. No way could Dean drive at the rate he was going.

"Kay Shammy, I'm gonna treat thish like a bonding moment. Brothers in arms, what do you shay? Are we gonna get them on our arms? Dean swayed a little as he asked the question.

Sam looked at him. _Man, was he toasted_. "No, too visible."

Dean straightened and frowned, "No way I'm getting a shlave tat above my ass, I'll tell you what!" he slurred indignantly and upended another drink.

Sam smirked and couldn't help himself-when would he get another opportunity like this? "Not above your ass, ON your ass"

"Bitsch"

"Jerk"

"No sherioous, sherriesh…really where?" Dean asked and downed another shot.

Sam couldn't bring himself to tease the guy again not with that look on his face, eyes all wide and pleading, maybe not very focused but still the look got to him. "It has to be placed near your heart, so they'll be on our chests".

"Oh," And Dean stared straight ahead. He picked up the last shot and knocked it back. "Urrrup!… Shcuze me" and then turned to Sam with a weak smile.

"Come on!" And Sam got off the bar stool; when Dean teetered as he turned to go Sam reached out and steadied him.

It was a short walk in the too bright sunlight to the Tattoo parlor named "Needles and Pins" the place offered piercing and custom Tattoos at reasonable prices.

As soon as they crossed the thresh hold they were struck by the combined smells of antiseptic and ink. Behind the counter the receptionist that greeted them was a walking advertisement of the piercing options they offered. Her ears, eyebrows, lower lip and tongue were all studded with silver balls. Even her navel flashed a piercing whenever her short blouse exposed her midriff.

Sam smiled a quick flash of dimples and thought _I bet she never makes it through a metal detector._

Dean swayed a little as he gave her his patented radiant smile that came out a little lopsided and thought _I betcha she wouldn't minda a game of count the studs and of course I'd hafta look everywhere…_

Sam saw that look and nudged his bother in the arm.

Dean frowned at him and said smiling at the girl, "I'm jusht drinking in the experience Shammy." And she giggled.

Sam took a breath and asked her, "So, you do custom Tattoos?"

"Oh, not me!" she blushed. " I just work the counter Ronaldo is the artist"

And upon hearing his name a tall muscular man with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail came out from the back. He wore blue jeans biker boots and a matching jean vest that exposed his heavily tattooed arms and chest. "Can I help you?" he asked in a gravely bass voice.

"Uh yea" Sam said, "we'd like you to do these for us" and he passed the man a print out of the simple all black design, "and could you put them right here" he indicated by making a circular motion over his left pectoral.

The man looked at the design, a pentagram surrounded by a circle of flames, and at the two men standing before him. _Flames, that's a give away_, _well it takes all kinds_. His eyes softened and he said, "Sure, that's kinda sweet you two getting the same design and all, I can throw in a little pink and baby blue if you like to liven it up no extra charge."

Dean suddenly got a lot more steady on his feet and scowling at the guy said, "NO,its not…" then he waved his hand between him and Sam and said, "We're brothers, its for a …club… we…uh… belong to".

Sam put his hand up to face and swiped it down gritting his teeth _well this isn't going to be easy now. _He looked over at his brothers all defensive posture and at the guys questioning look and said, "No, just plain black ink will be fine."

"Well alright then, who wants to go first?" and he made a sweeping gesture to the barber chair in the corner.

"I'll go" said Sam and the man instructed him to take off his coat and shirt and make himself comfortable in the chair.

Dean leaned against the column that separated the Tattoo area from the floor room and crossed his arms over his chest.

Ronaldo was suddenly very aware that the shorter man had positioned himself in a way that blocked easy retreat if anything went wrong during the procedure.

"Shari-lee, why don't you get a cup of coffee for our customer here while I work on his, uh, brother."

"No," said Sam.

"YES"-said Dean.

Shari-lee stood still looking over to Ronaldo for a clue.

Ronaldo wasn't too sure either.

Sam realized that the buzz Dean had been feeling was pretty much gone now anyway so with a look of grudging defeat and a sigh said," If you want coffee-have coffee".

Without taking his eyes off of Ronaldo Dean said in a very even voice, "Thanks, Shari-lee I'd love some".

The bell over the shop door tinkled and Shari-lee was gone.

Ronaldo sketched out the design and after having Sam ok the position the artist blocked out the details and then began to do the entire outline.

Shari-lee had returned with Dean's coffee order. The shorter man took the cup from her without taking his eyes off the artist working on his brother. She offered him a chair in the floor room area but he'd waved it off without a word. So, after catching Ronaldos eye with a look of _I tried my best_ left her boss to his work and the man leaning on the column to his vigil.

Sam kept his face expressionless as the buzz of the needle inflamed his tender flesh with burning pain. He kept his eyes focused on a group of holes in the ceiling tile that looked like the cluster of stars called Cassiopeia. And tried not to grimace at the pain.

He could feel Dean's eyes on him like a weight. He knew that if he flinched, let alone cried out the string of curses that he wanted to, he risked his brother heading out the door and their best shot of being protected against demons would not get done.

Dean watched his brother put on his brave face. Sammy had always been better at hiding pain that he'd been. Dean could manage it by being more vocal than the pain he felt. Sam could internalize. But Dean knew the tells. He watched the sheen of glistening sweat form on his brothers chest, arms and face and the muscles of his neck cord into tight bulging ropes; Dean could tell Sam was suffering.

Then Sam was done and the artist swabbed the Tat with antiseptic and covered it with a gauze bandage. As Sam gingerly shrugged his shirt back on Ronaldo gave him a pamphlet on caring for it until the healing process was over and reminded him to pick up the recommended ointment at the counter when they paid up.

Then it was Dean's turn. As Sam took his post by the column Dean removed his jacket and shirt and flopped into the chair.

Ronaldo couldn't help but note the difference in the two men as he studied the "canvas" he was about to work on. The chest of the taller man had been pumped and fleshy; he had obviously worked out. But the chest of the man in the chair now was rock hard, his pectorals flat and strung tight across. _Not a lot of meat to separate the needle from the bone,_ thought Ronaldo nervously as he began to sketch out the design. Suddenly the man in the chair twitched with the pressure of the pen. The artist stopped then proceeded. Another twitch happened. _Great and he's ticklish too._ The artist began to feel a cold clammy sweat dampen his own armpits as he prepped the tattoo pen for this next job by inserting a new sterile needle and loading up the ink.

When he looked back to the man's face he met a stony glare that seemed to say, with no small threat, that his life would depend on how much pain he gave the man that day.

Ronaldo swallowed and turned the pen on and began the outline. Instantly the man beneath the needle went rigid in the chair. "SONOFABITCH!" he shouted as he gripped the armrests with white knuckled intensity. But he didn't come out of the chair and for that the artist was very grateful.

Then turning toward 'his brother' Ronaldo's client said through clenched teeth, "When this is over I am SO kicking your ass!"

Please review - your thoughts are my windows


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